


Like Real People Do

by Kit_Kat21



Series: WHSFA [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family, Marriage, Modern Era, Playwriting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29071710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_Kat21/pseuds/Kit_Kat21
Summary: “And of course you and Jon can decide,” Catelyn answered Sansa’s question. “It can be anywhere you two want it to be. It’s your portrait. Just let me know an hour before so I can make sure it’s cleaned up.”Sansa looked at Jon. “Do you have a preference?”Jon almost told her that that was a ridiculous question because how the Hell would he know but he was able to swallow it down before it blurted from his mouth. Thankfully. “You pick,” he smiled.He knew there was no way out of this. This was what the Starks did. They stood and got their portraits painted as if they were royalty. But actually, the Starks – one of the oldest and wealthiest families – were like royalty of Westeros and Jon had been married to Sansa for over a year now but he was still adjusting to what was considered “the norm” for a family of such prestige.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: WHSFA [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653388
Comments: 11
Kudos: 74





	Like Real People Do

…

“I am so glad you could come for the weekend,” Catelyn Stark said as she took their plates.

“I didn’t know you actually gave us a choice,” Sansa smiled.

“Of course you two had a choice. We just would have rescheduled.”

Jon looked as Catelyn set his plate back down in front of him and he saw the roasted chicken, brown rice, and asparagus; all things that Sansa could eat. Jon knew that his mother-in-law had done that purposely.

Since becoming a principal dancer with the Shadow Tower Ballet Company, Sansa had become even more obsessed with food. She had always been so aware of every morsel of food she ate and now, it had reached levels that Jon wasn’t sure with how to deal. His wife was already such a thin woman – fit from hours of training and dancing, yes – but still so thin and she focusing even more on food, it scared him.

They were making love the other night and Jon had been on top of her and he admitted to being gentle – far gentler than Sansa had actually wanted – but he hadn’t been able to help himself. She was just so… _fragile_.

He didn’t tell her that though. Sansa was a ballerina and Jon was the husband of a ballerina. He was well aware of the physical demands his wife but herself through and the sacrifices she made for her career.

Still, Jon had never been so happy to see roasted chicken, brown rice, and asparagus; and even happier still when Sansa picked up her fork and knife and went right to it.

Having taken the train down from their home in Shadow Tower to the Stark Estate – Winterfell – for the weekend, they were eating dinner that night in the massive kitchen. Normally, if the entire Stark family was at the estate, they took their meals in the formal dining room but tonight, it was just Ned, Catelyn, Benjen, Sansa and Jon. Casual and intimate.

Just as Catelyn finished serving everyone – the Stark cook having Friday nights off – Rickon, the youngest and the only Stark child to still be at home, literally threw himself into the room, practically falling against the large island in the middle of the room.

“Mom! Can I take dinner up in my room?” He asked, out of breath from having run all the way from his room. His dog, Shaggy Dog, was with him as the animal always was.

“Let me hear your reason,” Catelyn said, sitting down between her husband and son-in-law.

“I’ve just reached level fifteen-”

“Sit,” both Ned and Catelyn said at the same time without letting him finish.

Rickon knew better than to try and argue. With a dramatic deep sigh, he came and dropped himself in the chair between his dad and uncle. He immediately began to eat, practically shoving the food into his mouth.

“Rickon,” Catelyn frowned. “Sensible bites.”

“And chew,” Ned added. He then looked to Catelyn. “Where is this happening tomorrow for these two?”

“I was thinking either the garden – the peonies are in bloom – or perhaps the apple orchard,” Catelyn said.

“Don’t Jon and I get to decide?” Sansa spoke up. “It’s our portrait.”

Rickon snickered, looking across the table to Jon. “You ready for tomorrow?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Sansa frowned at her brother and then gave a smile to her husband.

“And of course you and Jon can decide,” Catelyn answered Sansa’s question. “It can be anywhere you two want it to be. It’s _your_ portrait. Just let me know an hour before so I can make sure it’s cleaned up.”

Sansa looked at Jon. “Do you have a preference?”

Jon almost told her that that was a ridiculous question because how the Hell would he know but he was able to swallow it down before it blurted from his mouth. Thankfully. “You pick,” he smiled.

He knew there was no way out of this. This was what the Starks did. They stood and got their portraits painted as if they were royalty. But actually, the Starks – one of the oldest and wealthiest families – were like royalty of Westeros and Jon had been married to Sansa for over a year now but he was still adjusting to what was considered “the norm” for a family of such prestige.

(He didn’t think he’d ever fully adjust to it but he kept that to himself.)

Winterfell was a gorgeous – massive – estate and it was open to the public every Saturday for tours. A real treat was when Ned Stark decided to join in and lead the tour himself, taking the groups through his family’s history, a source of immense pride for the man.

The Hall of Starks was filled with busts and statues of the ancient Starks and in the newer generations, there were portraits. Each Stark had his individual portrait done. And then, the siblings had one together and then when a Stark got married, they and their spouse had a portrait done. The Hall was large enough for all of these paintings to hang on display – some sections filled from floor to ceiling – and Jon still couldn’t believe that _anyone_ would ever be interested in seeing his portrait.

But it was a tradition and he was Sansa’s husband and Sansa was a Snow now, yes, but she was also a Stark and Jon couldn’t _not_ be in the portrait.

After they had all eaten their fill, they cleaned the kitchen up and Catelyn brewed a fresh pot of coffee.

“I also have chocolate and walnut brownies for dessert,” Catelyn told them.

“Can I take mine to go?” Rickon asked.

“Is this game truly that important?” She asked even as she cut a generous portion and put it onto a small dessert plate. “Your sister and brother-in-law don’t visit every day.”

Rickon had poured himself a glass of milk and took the plate from his mom. “They’re here until Sunday. See ‘ya!” He called out to them all over his shoulder as he – with Shaggy Dog – disappeared from the kitchen.

Sansa didn’t take coffee or a brownie for herself – not that Jon was expecting her to have either – and she first kissed her dad and uncle on the cheek and then hugged her mom. She came to Jon last and gave him a quick kiss.

“I’m going to go take a quick shower. Wash the travel off of me,” she told him.

“I’ll be up soon,” he promised and she smiled, giving him one more kiss.

With his brownie and coffee, Jon followed Ned, Catelyn and Benjen into the family room. Jon knew well enough to know that every evening after dinner, in the family room with coffee and something sweet to end their days with, they watched television. The only thing they could all agree on was a cooking show or nature program and tonight, it was an episode of _Our Planet_ on Netflix.

Jon watched for a few minutes and then, decided that he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Tomorrow, is there anything I should know?” He spoke up.

“Morris is who has done all of our portraits and he’s going to be arriving here at nine. He will have his assistant, Marie, with him and she will help you and Sansa get ready,” Catelyn answered. “Morris will get you positioned the way he thinks is best and then he will take a photograph of you. He’ll use it to sketch your outlines-”

“-and that is the time to scratch or yawn or go to the bathroom if you need to,” Ned added.

“Make sure you go to the bathroom,” Benjen nodded. “Morris can get… _testy_ if you have to stop him once he’s begun the actual painting part.”

“When he was painting me, Benjen and Brandon, he threw a glass of water at my head because I asked him if I could take a bathroom break,” Ned said and Jon couldn’t stop his eyes from widening at that.

Benjen laughed deeply at the memory and Ned frowned at his brother.

“Hush, you two,” Catelyn frowned at them. “Don’t scare him.” She looked to Jon and gave him a kind smile. “It’s not that bad. I promise, Jon. But… it would be best if you don’t drink _that_ much tomorrow morning.”

…

As planned, the painter and his assistance arrived at Winterfell at nine o’clock as the family was in the kitchen, eating breakfast. Jon had just managed to finish the last of his bacon before Marie the assistance began ushering Jon and Sansa up the stairs to the bedroom that used to be Sansa’s and was now theirs whenever they came to Winterfell for a visit.

Jon saw that Marie had already wheeled in a rack of different clothes – a few dresses and different suits.

“Now, Sansa, I was thinking that with your hair, we’ll put you in blue today,” Marie said, plucking one off the rack. “Go try that one for me.” She handed it off to Sansa and Sansa gave Jon a smile before turning and going into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. “Now, Jon…” Marie looked to him. “Suit. Black. Skinny tie. Thoughts?”

“Uh… sounds good,” Jon said because what else was he supposed to say? He had wanted the chance to talk to Sansa about all of this but already, this morning had been a whirlwind and he hadn’t gotten the chance.

Sansa came out a moment later in her floor-length blue gown and like Marie had assumed, it looked absolutely incredible on her.

“Go try that on, Jon,” Marie ordered and Jon nodded, hanging the suit over his arm. “Sansa, over here and we’ll start on your hair.”

As he passed her, Sansa reached out and reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. Jon tried to smile at her but he wasn’t sure it formed completely. It definitely didn’t reach his eyes.

In the bathroom, he began changing into the suit Marie had picked out for him, his eyes avoiding the Armani’s tag. He didn’t know why he was so nervous but he was. His stomach had been in a knot since yesterday afternoon, when he and Sansa boarded the train to come here and now, this morning, he honestly felt like he could be sick. If Morris had thrown a glass at Ned Stark for asking to go to the bathroom, Jon could just imagine the painter’s reaction to Jon throwing bacon and eggs up all over.

“Get it together, Jon,” he told his reflection in the mirror, frowning.

He put his tie around his neck and began knotting it. There was no reason for this. He was just going to be standing there – for the next few hours – while he got his portrait painted.

For the Hall of Starks, in Winterfell, where it would hang for the next couple hundred generations; where on tours, it would be said, “And this is Jon Snow, husband to Sansa Stark-Snow. Lowly playwright. No one of any importance when compared to these _other_ portraits.”

He finished with his tie and took a deep breath, straightening it down his chest. There was a quiet knock on the door and Jon immediately turned, opening it, seeing his wife – her hair now styled down with traditional Northern braids through the front locks. Sansa smiled and slipped inside, closing the door behind her so they could be alone for a moment.

She looked him up and down and then stepped to him, her arms slipping around his waist. “You look so handsome,” she smiled.

“And you look beautiful,” he said, his hands coming around and resting on her back, holding her close to him.

“My dad is already planning pizzas and beers tonight once we’re done with this.”

“And you’ll get a pizza that you can eat?” He heard himself ask the question before he even thought of it.

“I will,” she promised and she had this look in her eyes, Jon noted; like she knew that this had become a cause of concern for him. She didn’t say anything about it though. “Are you alright? You seem nervous. There’s no reason to be nervous.”

“I’ve never stood for a portrait before.”

“Most people haven’t and I try to hide so much of this from you.”

“What?” His eyes widened a bit at that, having not expected that. “Why would you do that? What else do you hide from me? _Why_?” He asked again.

The questions flew from him and yet, deep down, he already knew that she did things like that. The first time he had come here during Thanksgiving break, she hadn’t told him a single thing about Winterfell or all of this. He just hadn’t actually thought that she was still doing that. They were married now. It was different. They were supposed to share things.

Sansa quickly shook her head. “I did it at school, too, with our friends. I tried not to talk too much about all of this because I know that the majority of people do _not_ live like how I grew up. I’m not ashamed of being a Stark. I _love_ being a Stark but I also love being a Snow and I know that getting portraits painted is not considered the norm for just about everyone.”

“I don’t want you to hide things from me,” he shook his head. “I want you to tell me everything. You need to. I just sometimes forget… when I met you and fell in love with you and married you… I’m still getting used to all of this being my new normal.” He paused and swallowed thickly. “I’m not really… I mean, I can’t imagine that I’m the kind of guy who was imagined as your spouse to be with you in this portrait.”

“What do you mean?” She asked with a slight frown. “The kindest, most supportive and loving man in the world? _The_ famous writer Jon Snow? Who else would be in the portrait with me if not you?”

He exhaled a shaky breath at that and he pulled on her to be closer though she was already as close to him as she could be.

“If all goes well, this will just be a few hours and then, we’re done with portraits for the rest of our life. The next time we will have to deal with Morris is for when our children sit for their own portrait.”

Jon looked at her with that and he began to smile. _Our children_. And Sansa began to smile, too.

“Is Morris that bad? And tell me the truth. Don’t hide it from me.”

Sansa tightened her arms around his waist and it looked like she was trying her hardest to keep herself from laughing. “If you have to go to the bathroom, go to the bathroom now.”

…

**Author's Note:**

> I was toying around with the idea of adding a second chapter with Millie and Hoster getting their portrait done and seeing Winterfell through a child's POV but I still haven't made up my mind. THANK YOU for reading!


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